


Devotion

by Adarian



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2760311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adarian/pseuds/Adarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amell just wants a quiet place to pray. When she is asked to leave the Chantry, Morrigan jumps to the defense of her lover's honour. Written for a kink-meme request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devotion

Amell took a deep breath before she went towards the burning flame. It was breaking her heart to see so many women and children hiding in the Chantry, frightened that this night was their last. She had ignored the advice of Morrigan, who typically disagreed with most of her lover's decision making. She was needed here in Redcliffe. Another healer could only help save a few more lives. If Morrigan didn't appreciate that, she was more than welcome to take a long walk off a short pier.

Amell put her hand over her heart and knelt, briefly murmuring a quick prayer to the Maker before standing. She rose, making eye contact briefly with a Sister who looked away quickly. It seemed her reputation had preceded her. In a town filled with magical terror, it was only logical that they should be afraid of an unguarded mage. She had never hidden her powers since leaving the Tower. It was another thing Morrigan would disagree with her about. Stealth was more important than honesty.

Amell grumbled to herself before her next prostration. The Sister walked to her side, placing her hand on her shoulder.

"Perhaps it would be best if you found another place to pray, sister," she said quietly, "I do not want you to frighten the other patrons. I appreciate what you are doing here, but..."

"I am a loyal Andrastian," Amell pleaded, "I have not been to a Chantry in nearly five months. Please. Let me pray with my brothers and sisters. Let me have this comfort to be with my God in his home." 

"I sympathize, I do. But it is not helpful to the others in this time. We must keep morale up, above all else. Your presence will only harm them. You should have considered this. It is selfish."

Despite the confidence she had walked in with, Amell found herself faltering. This wasn't the Tower, not her quiet sanctuary among her brothers and sisters. Here she was a stranger. A threat. She was no more worthy to be in this space then the creatures outside. For a moment, she had forgotten that. 

Amell blushed, glancing over at a group glaring at her and whispering, "Of course. I will return to my tent. My apologies." 

She made a quick bow to the altar before leaving, grabbing her gear off the floor. She opened the doors and saw Morrigan sitting on the steps, half-heartedly playing with the Mabari at her feet.

"That was a short self-flagellation," Morrigan joked, "I thought you normally do a hundred of your little push ups."

Amell pulled her hair back, "It's not the right time. We have things to do."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow, "That has not stopped you before. I remember you stopping in the midst of Dalish ruins to pray. It took your knees a week to heal properly. What is the problem now?"

"Can you let it go, Morrigan?" She groaned, "Just once, please? Not everything has to be a bloody interrogation."

Morrigan grasped at her arm and Amell looked away in embarrassment. 

"What did they say to you?"

"Nothing," Amell lied.

"They cast you out," Morrigan rolled her eyes, "Of course they did. The hypocrites. They ask for mages to be faithful and throw them in the streets when they attempt to be. This is enough, I will not let them talk to you this way."

Morrigan stood up and pushed the door open with both hands. Amell followed just behind her, watching from the doorway as Morrigan marched forward, her gaze narrowing in on the Sister who had spoken to her.

Morrigan growled, "I expect better of you, Andrastian. You take this foolish woman who actually wants to pray to your silly little flames and you remove her from your chapel like she were a rodent? This woman has decided to come to your little flea-infested village to try to save all your lives and all she asks for is a spot to pray and you bloody make her feel like a piece of filth. Now she might be a sweet, gentle mage, but I certainly am not."

There was a gasp in the crowd as Morrigan brought out her staff, twirling it in her hand. The other hand raised a purple orb, floating just above her fingers. 

"I," Morrigan continued, "Am a Witch of the Wilds. And you have insulted the woman I love. If you do so again, I will bloody destroy you. Do you understand me?"

The Sister whimpered, "Yes, mistress."

"Good," Morrigan snarled, "Now, if you would not mind, the Warden will require a quiet space to pray in peace. If you would be so willing to provide it."

"The Mother's study is free," she replied fearfully.

Morrigan waved Amell over, "Then there you have it. You have your own private sanctuary in this moralistic hellhole. Enjoy your lunges."

Amell passed her and hissed, "So much for making them less afraid of mages."

"A little fear can go a long way," Morrigan teased, squeezing her hand.

Amell tried not to smile, seeing the other patrons move in order for her to get into the study. She closed the door behind her and for a moment, could pretend she was a child in the Tower again, alone with only her devotion. 

She knelt, bowing her head to the floor. Ninety-seven to go.


End file.
